OK, There's No Epstein Client List. You Happy?

 (By Cyril Blubberpuss, Conservative-American)

I've just gotten a letter from President Trump. Reading it was quite an experience, to say the least, and I won't reveal the juicier contents so liberal pinheads don't make hay out of it. But the president's main concern was the Jeffrey Epstein client list that Attorney General Pam Bondi and FBI Director Kash Patel now say no longer exists.

     The president, I hate to say, has my family and me in a compromised position. Rather than gas on, let me just give you the opening paragraph of the president's letter:

    "Dear Cyril: This is your president. ME!!!! You owe me a favor for giving you the honor of attending my inauguration (sorry for putting you behind that statue) and I'm here to collect on that favor. I need you to tell people the Epstein client list doesn't exist and never did! Don't think it's been lost on me that you've distanced yourself from my brilliant administration since that air collision over DC last winter. This is not the time to be a pussy, Cyril!!! You know what's on that Epstein client list! And if I go down, others will go down with me, if you know what I mean!!!"

     The president's subtlety, as always, was unmistakable. I was conflicted, to say the least. While I never saw the client list, myself, I know some of the names that were on it. While Epstein was infamous for cavorting with girls about four or five years below the age of consent and with those who also preferred that age range, Epstein also had friends and acquaintances whose tastes were more... exotic.

 

    While I'm not going to name names, of course, let's just say my baby brother, Cecil, accidentally found himself on Epstein's private jet in 2005 that was dubbed the Lolita Express (which the president later honored by using on the campaign trail last year). This was purely an accident after Cecil dispatched one of our limousines to Epstein's jet at Kennedy International that was bound for Epstein's island. All Cecil wanted to do was go sightseeing! He's always been interested in travel, especially to countries that just happen to not have an extradition treaty with the US.

     The fact that Cecil spoke glowingly about the 13 year-old cabana boys and massage therapists that Epstein more or less employed should not be misinterpreted as anything untoward. In fact, after just one weekend at Epstein's island, Jeffrey forbade him from ever going back, so it's not as if he and Epstein had a lengthy relationship like the one between the president and Epstein. Pretty soon, we started getting invoices from Epstein demanding certain amounts to be paid, which I interpreted as travel and accommodation expenses. (One of them came with a rather racy picture of Cecil in his tightie whities chasing after one of the boys in a spirited game of Hide and Seek, with a caption below reading, "GET IT?")

      So, the president has us over a barrel, so to speak. So, the Epstein client list doesn't exist. Epstein didn't kill himself even though he had compromising information on some of the most powerful men in the world and it was within the best interests of those dozens of powerful men to ensure that Epstein never opened his big mouth. And there is nothing at all suspicious about the president seriously mulling over a pardon of Ghislaine Maxwell. There, Mr. President. Are you happy?

     However, Mr. President, it's up to you and your people to explain away this photograph. And, don't forget, my brother knows all about the cargo hold on the Lolita Express that Epstein had converted into a dungeon.